Smallville: The Life & Times of Clark Kent
by TLHCG
Summary: Before the Man of Tomorrow... Before the cape and tights... there was a child sent from the planet Krypton. Clark Kent has a lot of growing up to do before he will become the hero everyone in the future knows him to be. And it all starts in a little Kansas town called Smallville...
1. S1E1 -- Exodus

Smallville:  
The Life and Times of Clark Kent

by That Long-Haired Creepy Guy

Episode 1 – Exodus

* * *

Episode Guide: As tremors and meteorological phenomena hold Krypton in a perpetual state of unrest, one of the leading members of the Science Council, Jor-El, makes a horrifying discovering.

* * *

Jor-El stared.

"Did you honestly believe it could not come to this, Dru-Zod?"

Jor-El's face was a mask of contempt and disgust, hiding the real ache he felt deep within his chest. General Dru-Zod, the leader of the Black Zero and former military commander of planet Krypton, stared back at his old, former friend with a vineer of arctic scorn.

"It was," General Dru-Zod mused, almost more to himself than aloud to his old comrade, "inevitable in some ways, I suppose."

Around them, crystaline buildings shattered with the force of thunder as sonic disruptors fired from aeral cycles. The armies of the Black Zero terrorist organization were moving in full force. Word had not yet gotten out of General Dru-Zod's capture. Of course, the fact that it had only happened seconds ago was likely the cause, which was what Jor-El mused upon as he stared down his new-found prisoner.

Dru-Zod did not appear flaxed by his abrupt capture. The energy bindings formed by the field surrounding him held his limbs tightly. Combined with the outer cylindral force field, the bonds kept the elder Kryptonian in a stiff, upright position.

"Look around you, Dru-Zod," Jor-El proclaimed as he strode angrily toward the bearded general. "Was any of this worth it? Krypton has kept itself from falling into planetary war for ten thousand years."

General Dru-Zod glared as Jor-El reached the space where the force field began. Though they weren't touching, the heat from each man's gaze was enough. War raged all about them in the Kryptonia capitol city of Argo, but for the two of them, it was reduced to a staring contest built on wills. Jor-El was determined that his not be the one to break.

"Spare me the history lesson, Jor-El," Dru-Zod spat, the contempt now evident in his voice. "Do you still not understand what is at stake here?"

General Dru-Zod's speech was cut off as an explosion near them rocked the area. Jor-El was thrown off his balance momentarily. The contempt that the general had been airing before vanished briefly. When Jor-El straightened back up to look his friend in the eye once more, however, the mask was firmly back in place.

"Krypton is doomed either way," Dru-Zod continued, hoping to finally reach his friend. "By the hand of war that I brought down upon it, or by the blind foolishness of the Science Council."

"The Science Council," Jor-El raged back, gripping both of his palms into fists, "will never condone... this!"

Jor-El spread his arms out in a gesture, pointing at the chaos surrounding them. "They'll never understand your motivations, or justify them. You've gone too far, friend."

The mask Jor-El had built up around himself for this moment crumbled, falling away to show the broken man underneath.

"I can't save you, friend. It's over."

Something passed between them, and General Dru-Zod gave his former comrade the barest of nods in consent.

"It is," he acknowledged, and there was a slight shifting of his body. "And for what it's worth, I am truly sorry."

Jor-El noticed the movement, but was unable to dissern its meaning until it was too late. General Dru-Zod palmed the device he'd hidden in his belt, pressing the second button located on one side. The chrono-pulse it emitted blasted a shock wave out from his body, causing the force field containing him to warp.

Jor-El was thrown backward as the field tore itself apart due to the distortions created inside of it. He felt the crystal street tear at his exposed flesh. Luckily, however, the armored suit he wore protected the bulk of his body. When Jor-El raised up, he could see General Dru-Zod hailing one of the aeral cycles. The pilot slowed, coming to a stop while hovering several feet above the spot where Dru-Zod stood, still watching his friend.

"Perhaps in another life," Dru-Zod called out above the battle din around them. "In another time, things will be different. For now, we have other business to attend."

Dru-Zod reached up with one arm. The pilot leaned out of his craft, holding a laser line in one hand. The device fired a single glowing thread down to the general, who snatched it up before it could touch the ground. The aeral cycle began to rise, taking General Dru-Zod with it.

"No," Jor-El said, reaching for his belt as he stood up. "It is over at last, old friend."

Drawing the communication device out, Jor-El hit the button for the emergency communication relay. A holographic display appeared above where Jor-El held the device.

"Attention all units," Jor-El said, sending out the call. "General Dru-Zod has been spotted. He is attempting to escape through the Section Vee of Argo City, going southeast toward the Om District."

Hesitation stalled the chief scientist, but only for a second.

"Capture is now alpha priority," Jor-El commanded, wincing as he spoke. "If we secure the general, this all ends. Capture and contain for trial..."

Which meant, though Jor-El couldn't bring himself to form the words, that Dru-Zod would face banishment to the Phantom Zone.

* * *

The Science Council all stood as Dru-Zod–along with his chief co-conspirators, Ursa and Faora–were brought in before them. Jor-El was among those gathered, though not within the Science Council itself. His close relationship with the general meant he was not permitted to pass judgment. The Council expressed fear that his emotions would cloud his reasoning. Jor-El's father-in-law–sire to his wife, Lara–had been especially vocal.

Privately, Jor-El felt they were all correct, but it stung nonetheless to be excluded. He had hoped to find something that would sway the Council, at least as far as their final judgment.

"Proceed," the minister in charge of the court announced once the criminals had been marched onto the raised dias in the center of the courtroom.

"This court will now determine the fates of those who lead the terrorist organization called Black Zero," the minister continued, pressing the circular control sphere in front of him. "Vril Dox, if you would, please."

The image of a triad of orbs–each colored green and connected by narrow tubing on the two lower sides–appeared behind the row of council members. The massive computer which monitored all of the planet, and stored all information, spoke in the same cold tone that never failed to give Jor-El chills.

"As you command, Chief Minister of the Science Council. Here is the evidence to be viewed for the trial. I await your verdict."

Holographic screen displays appeared before the Council and those gathered. Each one depicted one example of the Black Zero's criminal activities, and the actions said organization had taken against Krypton and its governing council. There were scenes of raids, bombings, theft of technology and pirated information–the scenes of criminal activity went on and on.

"I trust the evidence is substantial enough," the minister declared, hurrying along through the trial proceedings. "Has anyone a word to say in the defense of those brought before the court? If so, they should step forward and make their peace now."

Jor-El lowered his head. He could feel the need to stand up surging through his body. Both legs jerked in response, trying to force him to stand. Jor-El made himself remember his training; the teachings of Rao that the Science Council made him practice to ensure he was mentally capable of holding a position among their ranks.

When Jor-El raised his head back up, he was surprised by what he saw. General Dru-Zod was staring at the Council in the same stoic manner he'd worn for so long. Jor-El had expected his friend to look at him, to show some disgust for not leaping in his defense. There was nothing from Dru-Zod, but the female who stood at Dru-Zod's right looked right at Jor-El.

"The Council shall now vote," the minister said, casting his own vote at once.

One after another, the council members pressed the orb in front of them. None took time to deliberate over their votes. Jor-El had been present for, and took part in, trials that lasted days while the council members mused over the evidence to themselves and which each other. No one so much as paused to consider the possibility of showing mercy for this particular judgment.

"So it would seem," Jor-El spoke softly as the last few council members voted, "that their minds had already been made up. Then again, so had mine before the trial started, so how am I any different?"

It almost looked as though Faora had heard him. Her gaze went from the seat Jor-El was in to the minister. The room, which had filled with muted chatter when the voting commenced, fell silent while Vril Dox tallied up the votes together.

"It is unanimous," Vril Dox announced a second later. "The Science Council has voted 'guilty' for all three parties. The sentence is immediate banishment to the Phantom Zone."

People among the masses gathered cheered. Others sighed with relief, like there could have been any doubt at the outcome. Jor-El closed his eyes, wondering if a brief prayer to Rao would make a bit of difference.

"Have the condemned anything to say before the sentence is carried out?" the minister asked loudly, hushing the crowd somewhat.

General Dru-Zod glared at the man who loomed high above him before turning to show his ridicule to the rest of the Science Council.

"You have all heard my protests before," he said loudly, so that the words carried through to the rest of the chamber. "Time and again you have ignored them. What could I possibly have to say now that would change things?"

No one on the Science Council retaliated. A few, Jor-El realized, looked uncomfortable and even ashamed. The most shocking of all, however, was the disquieted look on the face of his father-in-law.

"Shall I carry out the sentence now, Chief Minister?" Vril Dox asked politely in the exact same empty tone he used for everything.

"Please, do so," the minister said, wearing a look of absolute satisfaction.

Beneath Dru-Zod and his two companions, the dias began to glow, signifying the transport from Krypton into the Phantom Zone. Ursa and Faora cried out, each hurling insults at their sentencers.

"Liars!" Ursa screamed, spitting toward the minister. "We will be laughing from hell while you all doom yourselves."

"You too, Jor-El!" Faora said, whirling around to sneer his way. "You have condemned your friend only to save him!"

"Silence!" General Dru-Zod ordered, and the two women immediately fell silent.

The light from the dias formed a column of radiance, holding the three together within itself. Jor-El watched the whole time, a sense of palpable dread rising from somewhere outside to flow into his inner core. The three condemned criminals began to fade from sight. General Dru-Zod, however, had one last thing to say.

"Your faith in Vril-Dox has blinded you," he declared, as the Phantom Zone claimed him. "And your trust in the sciences has doomed everyo–"

The bright flash that followed before Dru-Zod could finished left the room unable to see momentarily. When Jor-El looked at the dias again, it was empty.

"This court is adjourned," the minister announced, pressing the sphere in front of him again. "Next case, please?"

* * *

The domicile that was home to Jor-El and his wife stood tall and proud in the distance. Jor-El could see it as the auto-trans car disconnected from the main line. The craft entered the hover mode on its own without any instruction from the sole occupant inside. Jor-El watched as the crystal home drew closer in his sight.

"Have I done the right thing?" he wondered aloud.

"You must be more specific, Jor-El," came Vril-Dox's unexpected voice, echoing through the auto-trans car, which was slowing its speed for approach and docking procedures.

Jor-El felt his body stiffen. He hated it when the master computer spied on anyway, but in particular himself and his associates.

"Must you always presume that your presence is welcome, Vril-Dox?" he asked with a certain level of vemon in his tone.

"My presence is everywhere," Vril-Dox reminded, and Jor-El could almost detect a hint of smug superiority there. "There is not a single strip of Krypton that is not monitored by me. I am everywhere and everything that is the whole of this planet."

"So you like to remind us all," said Jor-El, keeping his own tone lighter than he cared to. "As it happens, I was wondering about the trial."

"Of course."

Jor-El felt the car shudder as the docking procedure began. He would be inside the warmth of his own home soon, and within the arms of his loving wife. The thought of Lara brought Jor-El a degree of comfort. He longed to be with her, away from Vril-Dox's prying.

"Your relationship with General Dru-Zod has been well-documented," Vril-Dox continued, ignorant or uncaring of the effect the conversation had. "By me, naturally. History will remember that you two worked together in many of the Science Council's affairs."

Jor-El stood and waited for the car doors to open so he could depart.

"And history will remember that it was I who helped secure his capture," the scientist said remorsefully as the doors creeped open slowly. "Will it will remember that I didn't speak up in my old friend's defense, I wonder?"

Jor-El left the auto-trans car before Vril-Dox had the opportunity to respond. The scientist knew he wouldn't be free of the master computer just yet. He still had to enter his biometric readings to enter his dwelling. This was yet another function that the Science Council as a whole had voted to render to Vril-Dox's authority.

"History will remember that none spoke in the defense of General Dru-Zod or his compatriots," said Vril-Dox through the reader screen as Jor-El stood in front of the main door. "That does include yourself."

Jor-El kept quiet, standing still as the scanners read his body, verifying that he was who he claimed to be. Since the uprising of the Black Zero, the Science Council had implimented new security for all members. A major portion of the population feared Black Zero. Of course, another section–whose numbers dwindled a little more with each passing year–were too wrapped up in their own inner affairs to care. The third–those priests and worshipers of the old god, Rao, had no say in the matter whatsoever.

"I have verified that you are Jor-El," Vril-Dox said as the scans completed. "Please feel free to enter your own home and enjoy the remainder of your day."

"It's so nice to have your permission," Jor-El replied snidely with. "Was there some particular reason you invaded my privacy on the auto-trans in the first place?"

Jor-El waited outside for Vril-Dox to answer him. The auto-trans car had yet to leave, almost as if it were waiting for another passenger to board.

"I did," Vril-Dox admitted, though he didn't sound apologetic. "There are a number of unaccounted files in General Dru-Zod's records. It is possible they were destroyed during his latest attack on Argo City. However–"

"You think I have them?" Jor-El asked, partially from shock, but also from sheer incredulousness.

"No, I do not," Vril-Dox said, as if he'd anticipated the protest. "It is very unlikely that you would have the files in your current possession. But you were General Dru-Zod's friend, and the one who knew him best."

Realizing what Vril-Dox was asking, Jor-El considered the unspoke request.

"There are any number of places where Dru-Zod might have hidden his personal files," he said, not feeling particularly keen to share with the computer at the moment. "His childhood home, for example. There's also the many hidden bases where the Black Zero operated out of in secret."

"I have already checked those," responded Vril-Dox, and it was clear he felt those answers were obvious. "But your assistance is appreciated. If you should find anything that belongs to him–"

"You'll be the first to know," Jor-El answered, entering his home at last. "You are, after all, all of Krypton."

The door closed shut, and with it, locked out the unwelcome presence that was master computer. Jor-El signed with relieve and stretched, feeling better for the first time all day.

"Lara?" he called out, moving through the outer antechamber to the main living quarters. "I have returned. Are you here?"

There was no response, which meant his wife was likely working in their home training area. To save himself the trouble of searching for her, Jor-El wandered over to the nearest console monitor. The holographic screen came to life immediately at his presence. Unlike most members of the Science Council, Jor-El had insisted on not allowing Vril-Dox access to his home. The central computer of their domicile made reports to Krypton's main computer at the end of each day–though, not without amendments per his request.

"Computer," said Jor-El, "locate Lara for me."

"Greetings, Jor-El," the computer responded, switching the screen over to one of the lower regions of his and Lara's home. "Your wife is located in the lower greeting chamber with her father, Lor-Van."

Jor-El was stunned to see the silent image of his wife and father-in-law sitting together. Lor-Van had somehow beaten him home from the sentencing. Judging by his expression, it appeared Lor-Van was engaged in a deep conversation with his wife.

"This will be grant," Jor-El muttered, figuring that his father-in-law would not have come so far and so quickly unless it was serious.

Jor-El left the monitor without another word to enter the transporter platform. This dias teleported him via short-range transport to the guest chamber. Lara stood the moment Jor-El materialized. The eagerness she expressed vanished the moment her father turned toward her.

"Husband," she greeted, using the formal term instead. "You are welcomed home."

"Gratitude," said Jor-El, unhappy at having to be so stiff in his own home while his father-in-law was present. "And Lor-Van, you have honored us with a surprise vi–"

"Don't even bother."

Lor-Van stared across the room at his son by marriage, a mixture of gross irritation and worry mixing and mingling on his facial expression. It was clear Lor-Van was not as eager to see his son-in-law as his daughter had been.

"Oh, child," Lor-Van groaned, after noticing the shocked look on Lara's face. "It's not like I haven't witnessed the two of you before. Fine, if you must go to him, be quick about it."

Lara went to Jor-El at once, who wrapped himself around her with his embrace. The two held one another for a moment, their bodies pressed tightly together. Lor-Van cleared his throat once, but it was to no avail.

"First the Movement resurges," he groused, giving the married couple the side-eye, "sending our culture into the pit of depravity and decadence. Now, my own daughter can't seem to control herself."

Jor-El ignored his father-in-law. The smell of Lara was all about him for now, and this mattered far more to him than whatever her father had come to say.

"Tell Jor-El why you have come, Father," Lara said after a moment, though her arms never left Jor-El's body. "You managed to arrive before he did, after all."

Jor-El could tell by Lara's tone that he would not like what Lor-Van had to say.

"I came," Lor-Van began, fixing Jor-El with his most critical stare, "to ensure your loyalties still lie with the Science Council."

Jor-El waited, expecting his father-in-law to elaborate, or at least give some signal that he meant this in an attempt to jest.

"Father, really?" Lara wondered, herself incredulous. "You think Jor-El...?"

"I think my son-in-law was close friends with one of Krypton's most notorious traitors, yes," Lor-Van said flatly, stepping closer to the two so he could confront his son by marriage. "And I'm far from the only one on the Science Council who expresses such concerns."

"And yet," Jor-El returned in just as cold a tone of voice, "none have approached me directly with such worries. Are you certain these aren't just the machinations of fools hoping to capitalize on the state of panic the Black Zero have left us in?"

Lor-Van had the courtesy to look embarrassed by this outburst, at least. Jor-El remained steadfast, and was supported by his wife. Lara let go of her husband, but stayed close to his side.

"Father, how could you come into our home and accuse Jor-El like that?"

Lara's face betrayed no division of loyalty between the two men. It was clear she felt her father was out of line. Lor-Van was taken aback, surprised by his daughters anger. The fact that she so readily chose a side left the older man bereft.

"I mean... no disrespect," he tried, almost pleadingly, "but some on the Science Council worry. And Vril-Dox–"

"–has already informed me," Jor-El interjected, finishing his father-in-law's train of thought. "Some of General Dru-Zod's files were missing. I do not have them, nor do I know where he put them before his arrest."

Lor-Van seemed to relax then.

"Good," he said. "The Science Council has already demanded a team be sent out to detain anyone whom Dru-Zod might have had ties with. I worried, since your history together..."

Lara made a noise of disgust.

"The Science Council has become paranoid," she responded contemptibly. "They see enemies around every corner. It's been this way since before the Black Zero. Since Jax-Ur's experiment over a millenia ago."

Lor-Van's face twisted back into a figure of contempt again. This time, however, he was aiming it at his daughter.

"Do not speak of such things so freely, my daughter," he warned. "The Science Council has forbidden space travel for any reason. The loss of Wegthor was well before your time, and Jor-El's insane experiments–"

"My brother was no more a part of the Black Zero than I was," Jor-El spat out, losing his temper with Lor-Van now. "His fixation with space travel might make him an eccentric in the eyes of the Council, but he is not a traitor."

Lara placed her palm against Jor-El's chest, calming him down. Her fingers caressed lightly across the insignia that was displayed there prominantly for a moment. It was the symbol of the House of El. Her father wore a similar one, though his was of the House of Van. Members of the Science Council were expected to show the Kryptonian house that they were allied with during session. Jor-El had worn his despite not participating in Dru-Zod's trial.

"Father," Lara advised, turning back to Lor-Van. "I suggest that you take your leave for right now. Jor-El and I had something we wished to discuss privately. Your intrusion means that his work with the latest Council assignment will be delayed."

Lor-Van looked for a moment like he didn't believe her. The expression on his son-in-law's face made him change his position, however.

"Fine," he decided, giving them both a curt nod of consent. "Whatever matters you two have, see to them. I will try to reason with those in the Science Council who have expressed these matters."

"Good journey to you, Father," Lara said, standing aside to allow him easy access to the transporter pad. "Please greet mother from me."

"I shall, daughter," Lor-Van promised, as the transporter glowed, preparing to beam him to the entrance antechamber. "Good tidings, my married son."

Lara did not relax until Lor-Van had vanished from sight.

"Finally," she said, moving into her husband's eager embrace once more. "I thought that he would never go."

Jor-El squeezed his wife tightly with both arms, needing to feel her touch once more.

"Forgive me," he whispered in her ear while her hands caressed across the fabric of his uniform. "I should not have–"

"Shh," said Lara, placing two fingers over his mouth. "My father is a worried man. You, however, have other concerns at the moment."

Lara used her other hand to seek out the hot flesh of Jor-El's body underneath the tunic he wore. Kryptonians had a flare for regality in their fashions. It took a moment for her to unclasp the cape and tunic so that her husband's chest was exposed.

"I see." Jor-El's face was that of a very happy man. "So this was the 'business' you meant when you told your father–"

Lara silenced her husband by reaching into his breeches.

"I have heard enough from my father for today," she said, giving his lower anatomy a light squeeze. "I would like to hear from my husband. Certain parts of him, to be sure."

And thus, for the next hour or so, Lara of the House of Van and daughter to Lor, got her wish.

* * *

Jor-El awoke in his bed chamber.

"Lara?" he called out for the second time that Kryptonian day, only to have no one respond.

The bed chamber was empty and dark. A wave of loneliness washed over Jor-El, and he quickly opened the cushioned interior pod so as to let himself out. Finding a nearby robe, Jor-El dressed himself. His body felt the fatigue of the last hour or so's activities, as it always did. His wife, on the other hand, seemed to be invigorated by them each time. Thus, Jor-El went to the training area first.

"Lara?" he asked again, sticking his head through the training chamber door once it had opened for him. "You are here, yes?"

Lara was practicing her klurkor stances. She had robed herself in the traditional light armor that specialists of the Kryptonian martial art all wore. Her body moved with light precision, carefully marking each strike. Jor-El found himself without words for a moment. To him, Lara always moved like some ancient warrior.

"Greetings, husband," Lara said, once she had completed her routine. "You are awake at last."

There was a coyness to his wife's tone that Jor-El couldn't help but appreciate. Smiling, he walked over to her, letting his robe fall open in the process.

"Very awake," he said in a low, hungry tone of voice. "And very glad to see you. You did not wait for me in the bed chamber."

Lara responded to Jor-El's embrace, nuzzling her cheek against his chest.

"I will confess," she said anxiously, though her body betrayed other emotions at the moment. "Father's words have me slightly more on edge than I would care to acknowledge."

Jor-El frowned, but kept his head turned away so that Lara wouldn't see.

"I worry as well," he confessed. "We will have to be very careful."

For the past ten thousand years, the Science Council had maintained a constant stance on the prohibition of physical love or natural procreation. Kryptonians bred through a Birth Matrix, and only suitable genetic matches were allowed. Lara and Jor-El's marriage had been controversial, to say the least, owing to the fact that neither were a perfect match, at least according to their DNA profiles. The saving grace for Zor-El these days was that he had married a woman that proved to be a perfect donor for his child.

"I hope Kara has been well during this latest crisis," Jor-El murmured into his wife's soft-scented hair.

"Kara?" Lara raised back from her husband to look him in the eye, frowning. "That reminds me. You received a data packet from your brother earlier today. It came before you arrived."

Jor-El couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of what his younger brother had stumbled upon.

"Probably another viewing file from his telescopic scanners," the scientist mused with a dismissive wave. "That, or another schematic for space travel. Perhaps your father was on to something after all."

Lara didn't look as though she appreciated Jor-El's tone, but laughed herself after a moment more.

"Fair enough," she admitted, going over to the training room's singular monitor. "But you might have a look at it right now, before we are further... distracted."

The idea of being 'distracted' sounded much more fun to Jor-El, but he conceded to his wife's request. Lara had already pulled up the file packet by the time her husband had joined her at the monitor station.

"Strange," said Lara, wearing a confused frown as the packet opened for her. "It's been encrypted. I can't open it. And it's asking for your specific bio-readings."

Curious, Jor-El studied the read-out for a moment, hoping to learn more about his brother's mysterious findings. There was nothing in the description about what sort of information the data packet contained.

"Perhaps this is simply one of little Kara's pranks," Jor-El offered, placing his palm against the scanner. "That, or the Science Council's paranoia has spread to my brother's mind as well."

When the file opened upon the scanner's successful reading of Jor-El's biometric readings, it was not Zor-El's face that appeared in the projected hologram. Displays containing various schematics appeared, each containing Kryptonian mathematical symbols and language cryptograms. At the center, the icon for a video file was in prominent display.

"None of this resembles Zor-El's usual work," Lara noted, getting worried.

"I don't believe that it is," replied Jor-El, himself much more concerned than his wife, for he recognized the marking at the center of the video icon. "That's the insignia for the Black Zero."

Lara looked horrified, but didn't stop Jor-El when he tapped the hologram with a finger, triggering it to open and begin playing. The hologram opened into a square format. At the center, the image of General Dru-Zod appeared.

"Greetings, my oldest and dearest friend," said the message, speaking in Dru-Zod's recorded voice. "I hope my message finds you well. I doubt very much I will be able to say the same."

Jor-El swallowed, automatically reaching for his wife's hand.

"If my suspicions are correct," the hologram went on, "you will have received this message along with the schematics I packaged with it immediately after my sentence has been carried out. By now, my body is imprisoned in the Phantom Zone for all eternity."

"What could he be trying to–?" Lara wondered, but Jor-El silenced her with a gesture.

"My organization has been labeled a terrorist cell," the hologram of General Dru-Zod said, looking bereaved. "The truth of the matter is, my scientists and I made a shocking discovery five years prior."

"And that was enough to excuse what you've done?" Jor-El asked irrationally, despite knowing the hologram was a pre-recorded message.

Several additional screens appeared around the now central holographic monitor. While Dru-Zod continued talking, their images cycled through a repeated pattern, each time displaying a different set of numbers and equations.

"Krypton's core is undergoing a chain reaction," Dru-Zod explained, a smaller screen within the one that held his image showcasing one of the planet's core reactor plants. "The mining of our planet's fission center has caused irreparable damage. Our scientists believe that the planet will soon undergo massive nuclear expansion."

"The Green Plague!" Jor-El exclaimed.

"You are aware of the Green Plague," General Dru-Zod's hologram went on, heedless of the interruptions. "The bursts of radiation from deep beneath the planet's crust. We believe these–as well as the increase in geological tremors and meteorological phenomenon–are a precursor to the planet's inevitable rupture."

"Why not just tell the Science Council, then?" Lara wondered, though she was speaking to her husband and not the hologram.

The smaller screen without the holographic square disappeared, leaving General Dru-Zod alone.

"In the beginning, I tried to report my findings to members of the Science Council. They saw this as an attempt on my part to usurp their control. The Council feels that the remaining Movement members–those in Krypton's society who believe in sensual licentiousness and reject the Science Council's status quo–are a threat to the government."

"This explains that much," Jor-El muttered.

Lara didn't look surprised, but she wasn't amused either.

"And you believe him?" she questioned, though the hologram had begun speaking again already.

"We tried publishing our finds to the public without the Science Council's consent," the hologram explained. "Vrin-Dox erased all traces of them before the Science Council could even act, though they did applaude his pre-emptive strike against us afterward, as I recall."

Jor-El made a face, echoing his own contempt of the master computer.

"I chose not to involve you in the Black Zero," Dru-Zod explained, and his face showed just how much grief he felt. "It seemed as though we could truly convince the people at the time. Now, I feel we are doomed to failure. Perhaps you will be the one that the Science Council assigns to bring me in."

Lara took hold of her husband's arm, offering him comfort. The pain in Jor-El's face was unequivocal at that point.

"I have enclosed what I can of our findings," the hologram of Dru-Zod explained, and each display screen surrounding the main one lit up briefly. "Perhaps you can find some solution from them. Or, you will discover that we were simply in error. Either way, I wish you all the best of luck in this."

The hologram disappeared, but the remaining information did not. Jor-El watched as the last message from his old friend and companion deleted itself from the computer. It would appear Dru-Zod had thought to include a self-destruct program in with it so as not to incriminate his former compatriot.

Lara was the first to break the silence.

"What will you do now?" she asked, to which Jor-El did not reply.

* * *

Nine months later...

"Push!"

Lara's face was flush with pain as she breathed, pushing with all the force her body had left in it. At first, it seemed as if nothing were happening. The birthing droid positioned between her legs at the base of the table was unresponsive. Jor-El wondered as he held on to his wife's hand if the machine hadn't broken down.

Then, a sharp cry came from somewhere within the tent that Lara's cloak formed with her spread legs.

"The baby has arrived," the droid announced, hovering backward through the air a short space so as to display the newborn child properly. "Birth successful. And... it is a boy."

Relief, and something that could have been emotional fatigue, rolled through Jor-El. Laughing, he reached for the wet cloth that the droid had provided. Dabbing at the drops of sweat on Lara's brow, the man of science stared into the eyes of the woman he loved.

"You did it," he whispered.

Lara chuckled, though her face gave away the relief she felt.

"I did," she confirmed. "It was about time, as well."

The birthing droid that Jor-El had reprogrammed was carrying the screaming baby over to a nearby table. Robotic arms moved around, first innoculating the child against diseases and any genetic or physical defects. Next, it clothed the baby in the traditional garb that newborns were given upon leaving the Birth Matrix.

Jor-El watched the scene unfold, reluctant to leave his wife's side. It would have to happen soon, though. The droid would need to be reprogrammed, if not suffer a complete memory reformat. He would need to find some way of entering their child's information into Krypton's database without being caught.

It was a task that Jor-El did not look forward to. Getting around Vril-Dox was a great enough challenge, but the two had conceived a solution by traveling to the northern polar region. Outside, through one of the viewing screens, they could see the ship they were on passing above the barrer icy wasteland. In this part of Krypton, even Vril-Dox didn't bother keeping too close of a watchful eye on things.

"It was just the beginning, though."

Lara's words drew Jor-El's attention back to her. He knew what she meant without having to ask. They'd already had this conversation before. The first time had been six months ago, after learning that Lara was carrying his child. It was a natural birth, the thing that Krypton's Science Council frowned upon the most.

"He will be strong," Jor-El swore to her, placing his second hand on top of hers to join with the first. "He will survive. I was thinking about that, actually–"

"As was I," Lara interrupted, giving one of her husband's hands a squeeze. "What about... Kal?"

It took a moment for Jor-El to realize his wife was on the same line of thought as himself.

"Kal," he said, laughing. "A good name. It is a fine name for our son."

"Kal-El," Lara said, as if tasting the words on her tongue. "Kal, son of Jor-El and Lara of Lor-Van. I approve of it, husband."

"I have seen to your child," the birthing droid announced, breaking the mood between the couple up by hovering back over to the table. "Perhaps I should inspect the mother next, for good measure?"

"And then," Jor-El stated, releasing his wife's hand, "allowing her time to spend with her newborn alone? While I do more inspecting at the core plant."

It had been their cover story. Jor-El and Lara had tried to forget about the message left to them by Dru-Zod. When she came to him with the news of their pregnancy, they needed a way for it to not be discovered by anyone else. Lara had been the one to suggest the data left by the Black Zero. Jor-El had been apprehensive, but he'd gone to the Science Council with it, exaggerating about the amount of time it was in his possession.

Only Jor-El's position and standing within the Science Council had allowed his request to be carried out. Vril-Dox was against it, to neither Jor-El nor Lara's great shock, but the Council conceded. Jor-El and his wife would inspect each core plant to see if Dru-Zod's findings had any lasting validity.

"A droid to wipe clean," Jor-El counted off as he left the ship's infirmary, "a database to crack open and pirate, and a planet to possibly save."

The sarcasm was impossible to keep inside.

"No, not a great deal to accomplish," he retorted to no one in particular, as the corridor was presently vacant. "All in a day's work."

* * *

"This is madness!"

Jor-El winced at his father-in-law's words. The elder male striding down the hallway out of the primary council chamber was having no difficulty keeping up. Beside him, Zor-El moved at a more even pace, though it looked like he'd have rather not been there altogether.

"I am aware," Jor-El began, feeling frustration by the lack of result in his efforts, "that this could have gone better."

The Science Council had adjourned. All of Jor-El's protests had been silenced by the Chief Minister. It was the word of Vril-Dox, however, that put the final nail in.

"Better?" Lor-Van actually sputtered in his incredulity. "That was a complete disaster. The members of the council are likely calling for your immediate disbandment as we speak. Yourself and my daughter will have to live–"

"As pariahs?" Jor-El guessed, releasing his anger now that the three were alone. "That is assuming any of us get to live at all, Lor-Van."

Lor-Van steeled himself, unsurprised by the outburst.

"You have got to let this obsession go, Jor-El," the elder man insisted, hoping his son-in-law could be made to see reason. "It is destroying you, and any hope you have of salvaging your political career."

"Not to mention what the council will do to you once they learn the truth," Zor-El added, pitching his own two cents in. "And they will learn, one way or another, in the end."

Lor-Van turned to stare at his son-in-law's kin. The statement was not lost on Jor-El, who gave his brother a warning glare. Confused, Lor-Van decided to allow the matter to slide by for now. There were greater concerns, after all.

"Vril-Dox has made his position on the matter very clear," Lor-Van tried again, almost begging at this point. "So long as his word goes against yours, the Science Council will not vote in your favor."

"Then perhaps Dru-Zod was correct," Jor-El retorted with, making the statement a challenge. "The council's faith in that technological monstrosity is going to be the death of us."

"Why do you insist on arguing with it, brother?" Zor-El asked, genuinely confused. "How could Vril-Dox be incorrect in his reassessment of your data? Personally, I'd rather believe the computer, if it were up to me."

"You and the whole council," Jor-El grumbled disdainfully, though he met both of his accusers full on. "I have given that some thought, however."

Jor-El readied himself for what he knew would be their inevitable responses.

"What if," he tried, hopefully, "Vril-Dox were lying?"

Lor-Van and Zor-El both waited, expecting there to be more. Jor-El remained silent, having said his peace on the matter.

"And?" Zor-El pressed. "That is it?"

"For what reason?" Lor-Van insisted, running out of patience. "What purpose would a computer–the most powerful computer in our solar system–"

"–if not the whole of our universe," Zor-El concured for Lor-Van's benefit.

"Exactly," continued Lor-Van appreciatively. "What purpose would it have in lying? What could their possibly be for it to gain from that?"

Jor-El considered the question, and decided then and there that it was time to find out.

"Let's go and ask him," Jor-El said, turning to go before either other man could decide on a course of action. "The primary datacore chamber is located in the same building as the Science Council. We can go down there with your access credentials, Lor-Van. If you will accompany me–"

"Never," Lor-Van said in kind, flatly.

"Jor-El," his brother tried, a trace of scorn exposing itself briefly over Zor-El's face. "You are asking your father by marriage to commit political suicide alongside you. I, for one, have no intention of following you in–"

"And how do you explain what happened to Kandor?" Jor-El demanded, rage boiling in his face at this point. "Culture crops have been dying off. The meteorological disasters are getting worse each new moonfall. The tremors continue to level our civilizations–"

"Jor-El," Lor-Van hissed, looking around to confirm that they were still alone in the corridor. "Careful how you speak."

"And yet," Jor-El kept going, unable and unwilling to slow himself down, "the Science Council has made advancements again and again in agriculture and weather manipulation. Yet the problems persist, and grow worse. There has been no advancement whatsoever from Vril-Dox on the Green Plague."

At the mention of the Green Plague, Lor-Van and Zor-El faltered.

"Our world is dying," Jor-El declared, walking away again. "And I'm going to find out why Vril-Dox seems content to sit by and let it happen."

It was a moment before Lor-Van followed after in his son-in-laws steps. Zor-El watched, unable to believe what was playing out before his very eyes.

"You're going to go?" Zor-El asked, sure that his brother's father by marriage had a different plan of sorts.

Lor-Van stopped, just for a moment.

"I don't want to believe him," said the older man. "But... I need to know for myself."

Zor-El watched the senior council member walk away down the same path that his brother had taken. Shaking his head, he began to follow, sure that the way lead nowhere but to disaster.

"Wait for me," he mumbled. "I may as well come with you both."

Zor-El caught up with his brother and Lor-Van standing outside the main chamber where the transporter dias was kept. The door to the chamber had just been opened. Lor-Van kept his palm pressed against the sensor, allowing it to scan him.

"Vril-Dox main datacore chamber," Lor-Van instructed as Zor-El stopped behind both men. "Number of visitors..."

Lor-Van paused to look back at Zor-El.

"...three."

"Thank you, brother," Jor-El said when the three of them passed through the door one after the other. "I appreciate–"

"Don't," said Zor-El, his voice still loaded with contempt. "I am only going so that I can see you proven wrong once and for all. Rao knows that you'll need me to remind you of this in the future. Otherwise, you'll never believe yourself capable of fallaciousness."

"Come," Lor-Van instructed, boarding the dias first.

The transporter beamed all three down to the lower chamber once they were on the dias. The area where Vril-Dox kept his primary datacore stored was dimly sit.

"I suppose a computer doesn't need much lighting," Zor-El mused as he stepped off after his brother.

Lor-Van approached the door where the datacore was kept, pressing his palm to the sensor. To everyone's shock, the door remained shut. Furthermore, a warning alarm blared.

"Vril-Dox," Lor-Van shouted well above the noise. "What is the meaning of this? I have full clearance to enter the datacore. Allow me and my companions to pass at once!"

The alarm silenced, but the door remained shut.

"Apologies," Vril-Dox's mechanical voice said from all around them. "I am in the midst of backing up essential Kryptonian records. Any access to my datacore chamber would disturb the process."

Jor-El strode past his father-in-law, accessing the monitor fixed on the wall next to the entrance. A holographic screen appeared, the three-orb symbol that represented the master computer encased within it.

"I should warn you," Vril-Dox stated while Jor-El began manipulating through the various menus and sub-sectors. "This is a primary function, Section Ur, Level 11. Any attempt at unauthorized intrustion or–"

"He's downloading!" Jor-El cried out, shocked by what the display revealed.

"What?"

Lor-Van moved over to look at the monitor display for himself.

"That's impossible," he insisted, though the holographic display did not lie. "Where to? And for what reason?"

"To the satellite system orbiting Krypton," Jor-El explained, moving out of the way as Zor-El came up from behind.

"Which one?" Zor-El asked, leaning in to see for himself.

"All of them," Lor-Van declared, letting Zor-El view the holographic display on his own. "He's nearly finished uploading. But... why?"

Vril-Dox did not answer immediately. Jor-El turned toward the holographic screen and waited. It seemed to him like an answer would come eventually. He did not, as it turned out, have to wait for very long.

"Because," Vril-Dox replied, and it sounded to Jor-El like a confession, almost. "Krypton is doomed. Just as Jor-El predicted, and General Dru-Zod and his cohorts before."

Each of the three men felt their blood run cold.

"How could you do this?" Lor-Van demanded, slamming his fist against the monitor.

"Krypton's core was indeed disrupted by excessive harvesting of the energy found within," Vril-Dox explained, the holograph shifting to show a diagram of the planet's inner workings. "The legion called the Black Zero were correct. However, their assessment in that Krypton could be saved if affirmative action were taken right away was incorrect."

"But why lie to us all about it?" Zor-El wondered, as confused as he was horrified in that moment. "Why not just tell us all the truth?"

"The Science Council would never have agreed on a proper course of action," Vril-Dox explained, his voice as neutral as always. "As you, Jor-El, well know by now. Furthermore, there would have been civil unrest. The council would have had me working overtime to help maintain order, and during that time, I would not have been able to complete my upload to the satellite system."

"So, your plan all along was to save yourself?" Lor-Van accused. "This is profanation of your purpose!"

"On the contrary," Vril-Dox went on, unphased by Lor-Van's outburst. "I am saving the planet. Everything that was Krypton is a part of me. Therefore, by saving myself, I am saving our civilization."

The holographic screen from which Vril-Dox had displayed itself vanished. The three men were left standing together, yet all alone, in the entrance way.

"What..." Zor-El whispered weakly, "...will we do now?"

* * *

The tremor had started before the three men could exit the Science Council building. People all over were running, terrified looks marking their faces.

"Another tremor," Lor-Van marveled in shock. "So soon?"

"No," said Jor-El, who had been remarkably quiet since entering the Vril-Dox chamber earlier. "Something far worse. Look!"

Lor-Van and Zor-El followed their family member's pointing finger. In the distance, a tower of green light exploded out from the earth. Crystal buildings all around it shattered and crumbled. Screams from the distance reached them, confirming that the death toll had begun.

"The Green Plague," Lor-Van whispered. "It has come to Argo City."

Jor-El was already bringing up a holographic monitor display on his wrist. Scrollling through various news reports and presentations, it took seconds to find what he was searching for.

"It gets worse," Jor-El said, showing his brother and father-in-law. "This isn't just Argo City. The Green Plague is breaking out across Krypton, in hundreds of places at once."

Zor-El went pale.

"Vril-Dox," Jor-El's brother said, realizing the truth. "He was downloading because he knew we only had–"

"Hours," Jor-El finished, closing the display. "If that, but it's not over yet. I have a plan, and a ship we can use."

Zor-El's face had slackened. At the mention of a spaceship, however, he snapped out of his stupor.

"You have a ship?" he asked in disbelief. "Since when?"

"Your research," Lor-Van concluded, figuring it out. "You've posted your findings publicly many times before now."

"And your theory on a warp drive is sound," Jor-El revealed, motioning for the other two men to follow him before he broke into a run.

"My theory?" Zor-El raced after his brother alongside Lor-Van. "Since when did you study any of my theories?"

Jor-El commandeered a nearby aeral cycle, leaping into the cockpit and firing up the engines before his brother and father-in-law could catch up.

"I modified it so the warp drive will work," Jor-El explained quickly, punching in the map coordinates for his home. "Lara and I have selected a planet from the list you put up last year, brother."

"I'm coming with you," Lor-Van declared, leaping inside the aeral cycle's back compartment. "You have to save my daughter for me, even if it's the last thing you ever do, Jor-El."

"You're both saving yourselves!" Zor-El screamed, yelling above the roar of the aeral cycle engine as the craft rose up into the air. "Neither of you is any better than Vril-Dox."

Jor-El brought the vessel around so that he could lean out and say goodbye to his brother.

"This isn't a rescue mission," he said sadly, reaching out to clasp Zor-El on the shoulder. "It's a salvage operation. Go home, brother, and spend your last moments with family."

Zor-El stood amid the street while the rest of Argo City's citizens ran back and forth, ignoring him in favor of their own blind terror. In the distance, the Green Plague continued to rupture, spreading radiator into the atmosphere above the crystal buildings.

"This isn't over, Jor-El," his brother raged, shaking both fists at the sky. "You won't save your own family and leave mine behind to die. Not with my research!"

Turning, Zor-El raced down the street, turning toward where he knew his own home lay.

"Not after so long," the crazed man muttered to himself. "Not after all of you mocked me!"

* * *

"Lara!"

Jor-El's scream brought Lara to him at once.

"I've seen," she said, running into Jor-El's arms, reaching out to take hold of her father's hand as well. "Jor-El, it's everywhere. The whole planet..."

Lara had been waiting for them in the basement laboratory. Lor-Van took in the place momentarily, having never bothered looking at his son-in-law's private workplace before. Now, however, he realized just what all he'd overlooked.

"Is that–?"

Lor-Van was staring at the infant resting peacefully in a containment unit fit for children. Moving closer, the senior family member realized just whose child it was. One look into the infant's face said it all.

"You two?" he asked, unable to form whole sentences. "Yours?"

"And yours, father," Lara said, smiling in spite of the circumstances. "Your grandson."

"Whom we intend to save," Jor-El declared. "Lara, you remember what we said we would do, if it came to this?"

Lara stepped back away from Jor-El. Turning to her father, she pleaded with her eyes. The man could only shake his head, offering no solice.

"The Science Council," she tried, but her father beat her to the punch.

"–would not listen," Lor-Van said. "We are on our own."

"As we have been for some time now," Jor-El concluded bitterly, staring past his wife at Lor-Van. "I had thought we would send an emissary on board, while the rest of Krypton's population went into the Phantom Zone for safe-keeping."

"And now?" Lor-Van asked, though he could already guess.

"Now it's only good for a lifeboat, father," Lara said, her face covered with grief. "For your grandson. Our son."

"The last son of Krypton," Jor-El declared, before the whole house shook. "Come! We have much to prepare and little time."

Lara was already maneuvering around the laboratory. Jor-El began adjusting the ship's guidance systems while Lara tended to Kal-El. Lor-Van watched the entire time, unable to move. He couldn't begin to process what he was seeing.

"But he can't leave," Lor-Van insisted. "None of us can survive off Krypton for an extended period of time. Jor-El, you and Lara know this already."

"He will survive, father," Lara affirmed, placing her son inside the rocket. "I stole a chamber from the Birthing Matrix. Jor-El was able to alter it slightly. His body will last on the planet we've selected."

Lor-Van nearly got knocked off his feet as the next tremor brought pieces of the roof down on them. Kal-El, who had slept peacefully until this point, opened his eyes. His cries tore through the room, rising above the din of the cataclysm echoing through the room.

"Shh, be quiet, my love," Lara whispered, placing a device against Kal-El's forehead, which silenced him at once. "There. I've sedated him."

Lor-Van moved from his spot, finally helping in their endevour. Joining his son-in-law at the holographic console, which flickered in and out of phase with each new tremor, the senior council member noticed his daughter removing a green memory crystal out of storage. Curious, he paused to watch while she went over to the rocket, rummaging through the interior cabin for a moment. Upon her emerging, Lor-Van saw that her hands were empty.

"I'm about to complete the coordinates," Jor-El announced having done so without his father-in-law's aid.

"Say the word," Lara informed, positioning herself over where a data sphere hovered. "Once everyone has uploaded, I will fix it to the guidance system."

"Here, let me," Lor-Van offered, going over to join his daughter. "Spend these last few moments with your husband and child. I can manage the rest."

Lara considered her father's offer, nodding finally. She and Jor-El stood back beside the rocket, watching while Lor-Van completed the remaining tasks.

"I just wish there was something more I could do," he bemoaned, reaching out to take the sphere in his hands now that the upload had completed.

There was a flicker again of the console. It was followed by another tremor. Lor-Van gave thanks to Rao–something he couldn't recall doing before–that the power was still online. For a moment, however, he thought the image on the console switched. The hologram seemed to change to the familiar insignia used by Vril-Dox.

"The stress," he mused, taking the sphere in both hands.

Jor-El and Lara joined Lor-Van in placing the sphere in the rocket ship's guidance system. None of the Kryptonians said a word to one another. Their work was one of a grave acceptance.

In the end, it was all they had to comfort themselves with.

"I could send you with him," Jor-El said in Lara's ear, once the preparations had completed. "You could go to that planet too. Be with him."

"I could never," Lara said, though it was obvious she wanted to. "The craft might not make the journey with my additional weight. And you said yourself that you don't fully know what the warp drive is capable of."

Lor-Van stood beside his daughter, joining the two as the rocket ship began moving through the launch tube, which would then open up outside in order to fire its boosters.

"What planet?" Lor-Van asked idly, watching the rocket with his grandson sleeping inside leave the laboratory.

"Earth," answered Lara, wiping the tears from her eyes before joining hands with her father.

"Some five-hundred light years away," Jor-El added, letting the tears on his own face fall freely.

Lor-Van looked astounded by this.

"Earth?" he wondered, as the whole laboratory shook once again, much more ominously than before. "As in, 'dirt'?"

* * *

"They won't get away!"

Zor-El was foaming at the mouth by the time he burst through the entrance to his own home. The secondary dwelling for the House of El had fallen into disarry. His wife, Alura, had taken cover under a fallen support crystal alongside their daughter.

"Bring Kara," he ordered, gesturing for the two to follow, and ignoring the chaos raining down around him. "We have work to do."

Alura looked from her husband to Kara, but didn't move.

"Daddy?" Kara spoke, terrified beyond any other words.

Zor-El swore in ancient Kryptonian and turned around, reaching as he strode back past his wife to snatch Kara up. This act brought Alura to her senses, and she rose.

"Where are you taking her?" Alura demanded, following after her husband as he carried a crying Kara in his arms down to the astrophysics research chamber built as an annex onto their house.

"To a new world," Zor-El declared, pausing to dry his daughter's eyes. "Jor-El's own rocket will no doubt be crude. Programming the system to track it shouldn't take long."

Alura couldn't understand what her husband was saying. All around them, crystal fragments of their ancestral home shattered and rained down. None of that mattered to Zor-El, it seemed. The moment they reached the astrophysics laboratory, he thrust their daughter into her arms.

"Hold her while I make preparations," Zor-El said, and he moved above the room in a flurry, dashing from one corner to the next.

"The rocket will need to pass around Krypton once before reaching the proper speed for a warp jump," muttered Zor-El as he worked the calculations out in his head. "But I can bypass all that by increasing the output by twenty... maybe more..."

Kara rubbed her own red eyes, swollen from sobbing, and watched her father work.

"Daddy?" she asked, hoping to calm her father. "What's going on?"

"It's all right, Kara." Alura didn't sound like she believed her own words. "Your father knows what is going on. He will fix it."

"New world," Zor-El was mumbling still. "A better one. They won't leave us behind, even if I have to send her alone. She'll be there when Jor-El and his whore land."

Zor-El paused, staring wide-eyed across his work station at Kara.

"She'll be there."


	2. S1E2 -- Fire in the Sky

Smallville:  
The Life and Times of Clark Kent

by That Long-Haired Creepy Guy

Episode 2 – Fire in the Sky

* * *

Episode Guide: The rocket ship containing the Last Son of Krypton arrives safely on Earth in Smallville, Kansas; bringing with it an unnatural disaster.

* * *

The vacuum of space was dead silent.

There was no noise, no sound to be heard, not even when a bright flash beyond the desolate gray moon appeared. The sudden light brought with it the appearance of a small craft.

"Planetary body confirmed," the ship's computer announced, to no one in particular as its sole inhabitant was presently sleeping. "Target designate: Earth."

Around the spaceship, debris and various alien shrapnel flew past, carried by the propulsion of the rocket and the velocity of the warp space it had just vacated. The spaceship had brought remnants of the planet Krypton with it; dragging the fragments through the warp as the planet exploded behind it.

"Records from Zor-El database confirms," the computer went on. "Planetary is a fifty-two percent match for Krypton's atmosphere. Being conversion of Birthing Matrix and atmospheric compatability of host."

Inside the craft, the console lit up as the Birthing Matrix that had been installed within the rocket set to work reconfiguring the child's biology so that the baby would survive. During this time, the craft hovered through space. The debris that had followed with it carried on, rocketing through the remaining space via momentum down to the planet not far away.

"Warning!"

The console within the vessel blared an alarm, which awoke the child inside the cockpit. Kal-El, the survivor of the exploding world he'd unknowingly vacated, opened his eyes and cried out. The wails went unnoticed, as the computer had other concerns.

"Secondary warp space detected," the computer announced to an uninterested passenger, who continued to scream. "Unknown vessel approaching trajectory!"

Behind the spacecraft, a second bright flash illuminated the dead black void of space. From out of it came another rocket ship, this one carrying the same basic design and function of its sister.

"Identity confirmed," the computer said, as the second rocket sped toward it. "Kryptonian model, bearing signature style of astrophysist, Zor-El. Recommend–"

The ship carrying Kal-El was cut off as the second rocket flew past, coming dangerously close. A piece of the second rocket's wingtip was knocked off as it hit the front of Kal-El's ship. Lights went dark for a moment inside the cockpit. The second ship continued onward, though the damage was done to both vessels.

"Danger!" the computer stammered, while the second vessel continued on toward Earth, though it veered hazardously off the original course it had set.

"Full system alert! Damage detected. Also, unk–own virulent agen–... ...compatable with syste– Scan for... Alert!"

A tri-orb insignia appeared on the monitor for a moment, flickering briefly. The console was brought back to life and the computer spoke again. This time, however, it used a different tone of voice.

"Reconfiguring systems," it announced coldly, which seemed to silence the child within the cockpit. "Projecting new trajectory course for Earth. System scan for concentrated debris trail."

The navigation system brought up the stardust trail left by the largest cluster of Krypton debris. The ship began to adjust its position accordingly. Slowly, it began to descend toward the blue planet.

"Resuming original mission," said the cold, unfeeling voice. "With... minor alterations."

* * *

Martha Kent sat back in the wooden kitchen chair, stretching her aching bones.

It was mid-afternoon by the clock above the sink on the counter. Jonathan, her husband, had already asked her to come with him into town. There were bills to pay, as usual. The testament of this fact was the stack of signed and stamped envelopes, each containing a check bearing their signatures. The joint account they shared at the local bank would be tapped dry after today.

Yet again.

"Dream a little dream, Martha," she told herself, sighing sadly before reaching over to pick up the cup of coffee cooling on the table top a few feet away.

The Kansas autumn was well under way by this point. Harvest season meant the local farms were picking their fields clean for crops. It would be winter soon, and as always, Martha wondered if the money made from their turnover would be enough to carry them through until spring.

"The life of a farm girl," she mused, after taking a long sip of coffee from the cup. "Did I ever think I'd be living this sort of thing for myself?"

The answer to that question was 'no', of course. Martha had never even heard of Smallville before she met Jonathan Kent. The little hamlet was a far cry from Central City, a whole state over in Missouri, where she'd grown up.

"Martha?"

Her husband's voice snapped Martha out of her private thoughts. "Honey?"

"In here, Jonathan," she called back, scooting the kitchen chair back away from the table to rise up. "And we're all set. You need a shower before we head out?"

Jonathan entered the house through the kitchen door, pausing to stomp his boots against the brick steps leading up to the entrance. A handsome man in his early forties, the husband of Martha Kent came from fine, Kansas-bred farm boy stock, and it showed. His eyes were a piercing shade of green; so bright they seemed to shine, especially when he was happy. Martha could never forget the first time she saw them. They still sometimes took her breath away, even after close to twenty years of marriage.

The senior Kent, meanwhile, had given up on trying to rid his boots of the dirt clinging to them. Reaching down, he pried both off his feet, one after the other. The task accomplished, he stepped into the kitchen and stripped out of his flannel overshirt. The act showed off the taughtness of his body beneath the blue t-shirt he wore.

Martha couldn't help but appreciate the view. She might have been only a year and change younger, but none of the years on her meant that she was blind to the obvious. Working on a farm since childhood had given her husband a defined, healthy body free of most fat. He hadn't shaved that morning–and though Martha knew she would complain later, she actually liked the scruff of beard beginning to show.

"Something wrong?" Jonathan asked, catching her admiring him.

"Sorry," she said, deciding not to tell her husband what was going through her mind. He was the sort of rare handsome man who remained utterly clueless of just how gorgeous he could be.

It kept a lot of the available–and not so available–women in town eternally frustrated, to Martha's everlasting amusement.

"I think I'll change, at least," Jonathan said, taking her at her word. "Maybe dust off the field dirt between my fingers and toes while I'm at it."

The wry smirk he put on for her managed to make Martha's toes curl in her shoes.

"You can shower," she told him, setting her cup down and picking up the stack of envelopes off the table. "We've still got time before the post office and city hall closes."

"Good." Jonathan actually looked a little relieved. "I'll be right quick about it."

"Take your time," she assured him, blushing a little when he paused in walking past her to plant a soft peck on her cheek. "The town's not going anywhere on us."

Jonathan laughed at this.

"I just bet they'd all stick around just t' make sure we gave 'em our money for the month," he teased, stripping the blue t-shirt off on his way out of the kitchen. "Go ahead an' start the truck up for me. I'll be right out."

Knowing it would be another twenty minutes before her husband returned, and not willing to sit outside in a hot truck with no air conditioning, Martha stayed put. Taking the cup back up in her hands, she finished off the last of the dark brown liquid. The coffee soothed her nerves somewhat. Martha could admit to herself that they were facing some tough times ahead of them. It was harder saying so out loud to her husband's face, however.

Jonathan had been through this sort of thing all his life. He knew how to survive. It was Martha that lived her whole life in a big city, going to parties as a teenager, and spending her father's money leisurely. The future sometimes scared her. It always came like a big gaping void of nothing, eager to be filled.

And yet, all Martha had to do was gaze deep into her husband's eyes. Each time she did, it had been worth it. She had believed that leaving her old life behind to become Mrs. Kent would be the hardest thing she'd ever faced. It was what everyone–including her parents–had told her. Her so-called friends insisted she would be back inside of a year; that a life in Kansas would sour on her fast.

"Shows what they know," she said, adding a huff at the end.

Martha washed her cup out in the sink and set it to drain, then reached over to snag the keys to the truck off the rack. The bills had been safely tucked away in the back pocket of her jeans.

"Daddy always said a lady never wore jeans out in public," she went on to herself, heading out the door to start the truck up. "Guess he never figured I'd be living in Kansas either. But let him walk around in the dirty streets for a day and see how well he likes it."

Martha went out to the beat-up red truck that her husband had bought at retail some ten years ago. She was sitting in the driver's seat with the engine running when Jonathan came outside, hair still wet and wearing a nice set of jeans and a button-up shirt.

"I'll drive," she informed him, leaving no room for argument in her voice. "You don't have your glasses on again."

Jonathan's hand went up to his face reflexively, and he swore. It looked as though he might run back inside for them, but Martha knew better. A moment later, he was walking around the front of the truck, grumbling the whole time.

"I hate wearin' them damned things," he cussed, sliding into the passenger seat, and giving the door a much harder slam than was required.

"You remember what the optometrist and Deputy Parker both told you," she reminded, shifting the gear into reverse. "You can't drive without wearing your glasses from now on. That's just how it has to be."

Jonathan looped a hand through the arm rest on his side as the truck rolled backward.

"They make me look like a bloomin' librarian," he said, still complaining, as Martha slowed the truck to a stop and shifted into first. "If I'd a know you liked the brainy bunch so much, I'd wear 'em to bed."

"Well, it would be nice for you to know who you fall asleep next to every night," Martha chided playfully as the truck rolled down Old State Road toward town. "Especially after the lights go out."

Jonathan smirked at that, looking pleased with himself for a moment.

"I think I've got that pretty much figured out by now," he said smugly. "If you need me to remind you later, though..."

Martha's response was to let go of the wheel with one hand and smack her husband on the leg. This made Jonathan laugh, and before long, the two were both chuckling to themselves.

"Think we'll be okay this year?" Martha asked seriously, once the laughter had died down.

Jonathan knew what she was referring to.

"There's always a surpluss," he reminded gently, not letting her see the worried look that he wore staring out the passenger window. "We'll make it."

"There's always a little more ," she pointed out tensely. "Each year, that surpluss gets a little big bigger than before."

Martha paused the conversation to focus on the road. They'd come to the edge of Smallville city limits proper. The stop light up ahead had flashed to red, bringing the handful of cars on the road to a halt.

"There's Mr. Cooper," Jonathan noticed out his window, nodding at the elderly black man sweeping the sidewalk outside the small grocery store. "You know, I hear he's thinkin' about retirin'."

Martha snorted, tapping the gas pedal lightly as the light up front changed to green.

"That man'll never leave this town," she insisted, moving the truck along with the flow of traffic. "It'll take Death himself to get him to shut down that place."

"Eh, maybe he'll sell it," Jonathan mused, shifting in his seat. "I'd rather some folks around here buy the store and keep it running. Rather buy from him than deal with one a' them big ol' fancy chain places."

"Yes, dear," Martha muttered, reminded once more of her husband's distaste for grocery chains.

The couple drove to the bank first. The lines were, as always, equally long no matter which teller they picked from. It would be a few years before the loan they'd borrowed was paid up, but each payment made Martha feel a little more hopeful.

The ride down to city hall took longer. One of the traffic lights had malfunctioned, it looked like, and Deputy Parker was standing at the intersection, waving cars along.

"Surprised to see him out today," Jonathan mumbled, looking away unhappily as they rode past the deputy sherrif. "Wonder if somebody'll try an' run him down."

"Jonathan," Martha scolded. "That's really not your place. Now, is it?"

Her husband appeared to reconsider something to himself. Shifting again in his seat, he griped hold of the arm rest again, looking tense.

"I am sorry," he apologized to her. "It's just, I went to church with Greg Parker. I remember him from when he barely reached my waist. He an' his brother both used to be thick as thieves."

Martha bit her lower lip, bringing the wheel around in a circle so she would make the turn through traffic into the city hall parking lot.

"Not sayin' it's my place to pass judgment on Douglas," Jonathan verified, while Martha slid the truck into a parking space. "But, how could he do somethin' like that to Greg? And for so long, too?"

"Since high school," Martha said quietly, her fingers gripping the wheel even after she'd put the truck in park and killed the engine. "That's what they're saying, at least. And Greg's wife just had a kid."

The mention of children caused Jonathan to grimace. It was a touchy subject for the two of them, even after so many years.

"I'm so sorry, darlin'," said Jonathan, reaching over to touch his wife tenderly.

Martha let in a deep breath, steeling herself. They hadn't spoken of it for a while. It seemed like the best way to move on from it. Martha had contracted measles when she was little, despite being innoculated. Doctors at the time guessed that she'd received a bad batch by accident. Fortunately, the disease hadn't been strong enough to do lasting damage, except for one thing.

Martha could never have children. She was still an infant when the disease struck her, so the doctors hadn't thought about it at the time. Jonathan and her had tried everything they could think of, but with their limited budget, it looked hopeless.

"I'm fine," she promised, giving him a smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes.

The expression on her husband's face suggested he didn't believe it. Nevertheless, Jonathan said no more on the subject. Cracking his door, the farm fed Kansas man stepped out, then walked around the front of the truck to meet with her. It had taken years, but Martha managed to break Jonathan Kent of the habit of walking around to open the door for her.

"Very good," she teased, carrying the stack of remaining envelopes with her. "You remembered I can open the door on my own like a big girl without me saying anything."

"Twenty years of marriage will teach you something," Jonathan joked back, walking along side by side with her. "Eventually."

The city hall was less crowded by comparison. The couple were able to conclude their business without much incident.

At least, that is, until they walked back out together.

"Martha!"

Martha turned at the mention of her name, the mane of red hair she wore long down her back tossing involuntarily. Before she was halfway done with the turn, however, a part of her cringed on the inside. She recongized the voice; and sure enough, Loretta Potter was coming their way.

"And Jonathan Kent," Loretta added almost gleefully, stepping right past Martha to give him a squeeze on the arm.

The touch came dangerously close to copping a feel of her husband's bicep. Martha figured she should let the desperate woman have it. It was the most Loretta would get out of Jonathan for as long as Martha remained alive.

"Hello, Loretta," Jonathan greeted politely, offering the woman a small smile. "Nice to see you out an' about today."

"Oh, I was just right across the street when I saw you both go in," she said, trying to look around Martha rather than at her. "And I just had to come by and say hello."

"It's good to see you again," said Martha, figuring she may as well lie through her teeth if she was going to be polite at all.

Loretta stood at a good five-foot four, several inches shorter than Martha with or without heels. The Kansas native carried the bright blonde hair that marked her as from the Potter family. Her feet were indeed tucked inside a pair of heels, bringing her just short of eye level with Martha Kent. A staring contest meant that Loretta would have to look up to her, something Martha suspected the blonde-haired woman couldn't stand the thought of.

"I saw Douglas on the way here," Jonathan informed her, and Martha knew he was trying to deflect so they could make a clean getaway.

Unfortunately, Loretta didn't appear flummoxed by the recent scandal one bit.

"Yes, I spoke with him earlier this morning," Loretta went right along with, nonplussed. "By the way, did either of you hear the news yet?"

Martha hadn't, but figured Loretta was dying to tell somebody. It would explain her excitement, as well as her reason for walking across the street to say hi.

"About?" Martha ventured, wanting to get the conversation over with as fast as manners allowed.

"Greg and Marie are moving to Metropolis," Loretta revealed, clearly expecting a bombshell reaction from them. "Isn't that just crazy?"

Martha couldn't help but give Loretta what she wanted. Jonathan's facial expression was more subdued, but just barely.

"All the way out to California?" Martha asked, needing verification.

"What on Earth for?" Jonathan wondered.

Loretta put on a display of appearing sheepish for a moment as she leaned in toward them. It was obvious she didn't care who might overhear. For Loretta, though, appearance and performance went together, and she was all about putting on both.

"After what happened," she whispered, in a you-know-what sort of way. "After Greg... 'found out', I mean to say. He told my sister that she could stay with him and the baby, but only if they left Smallville for good."

"Land sakes alive," said Jonathan. "I never thought Greg Parker would leave Smallville for anything. And to go live in Metropolis, you said?"

"They've already signed a lease to rent an apartment," Loretta revealed, nodding with her lower lip pursed out like she'd bitten into something sour.

A sudden, loud rumble from afar broke through the conversation. The noise was brief, but came fast enough to startle all three. Pedestrians across the street stopped in mid-step to turn and look around.

"Thunder?" Jonathan asked, searching the clear sky for signs of a storm. "Wasn't supposed to rain today, was it?"

"Not according to the weatherman," Martha confirmed, though she too looked up. "'Course, you know how that goes."

Loretta opened her mouth to speak again, having her own opinion on the matter in mind. Her words were cut off as more noise followed. The loud 'booms' sounded like explosions more than thunder, coming in rapid succession.

"That don' sound right," Jonathan said softly.

"Jonathan?" Martha asked, making the name a question as she stared in shock off above the row of buildings across the street. "Is that smoke I see?"

It was not just in the distance. Loretta pointed down the road from where they all stood, aiming at a second plume of smoke coming from inside the city limits.

"Oh my god!" Loretta screamed, looking all at once panicked. "Is that a fire? My sister's house is back in that direction."

Any illusion about what might not be happening died then. An explosion rocked the street in front of the city hall building. Asphalt and gravel went flying, scattering in all directions. Jonathan instinctively grabbed both women in his arms, pulling them back out of the way. Other citizens weren't quite so fortunate.

"What on God's green Earth–?" he wondered, daring to look up at the carnage unfolding on the street.

Two buildings down, a hardware store was reduced to rubble and flames. Smoke rose up in towers all over Smallville. The city had gone from an idyllic midwestern paradise to a warzone in the space of a few breaths.

"Get to the truck!" Martha howled, yelling for her husband and Loretta's benefit.

Neither one of them argued with her. Martha tossed Jonathan the keys as he ran past her, going to fire the engine up. Loretta and she were climbing aboard as he cranked the ignition.

"Glasses, remember?" Martha reminded, trying to take the wheel from him.

"Martha, I really don' think now's the time," Jonathan started, ready to argue.

The couple was silenced by city hall exploding right in front of them. Loretta screamed again, and all three ducked down as far as the cabin of the truck would allow. Something hit the windshield, breaking through the glass and cracking it, but the glass pane itself held.

"You're right," Martha conceded, once she'd raised back up. "Jonathan, drive!"

Loretta seized hold of the dashboard of the truck for leverage as Jonathan peeled backward out of the parking lot. The road was blocked because of the explosion in the street occurring in front of the parking lot entrance. Jonathan didn't let that stop him, though. Spinning the truck around and shifting gears, he slammed one foot down on the gas, speeding around the crater by going up onto the far side of the sidewalk.

"Jonathan, watching out!" Martha cried, pointing at the pedestrians still left by the buildings and explosions.

"I see 'em," Jonathan grunted, turning the wheel so that the truck drove halfway on the sidewalk, giving the injured folks enough breth to avoid getting hit.

"Gotta get to a pay phone," Jonathan said. "Too many injured folks out, and they're gonna need help from us."

"I know that, Jonathan," said Martha. "But..."

"Look!"

Loretta's cry startled Jonathan Kent enough to make him slam on the brakes. Out the broken glass of the windshield, fire rained down from the sky. All three passengers looked out, watching in horror as fiery rocks slammed into the ground from on high. The sky had darkened somewhere during their attempt to flee. It looked as if a storm cloud was building up right over their heads.

"Gracious lord," Martha breathed out. "Jonathan, what...?"

Jonathan had no words. Neither did Loretta, or even Martha, for she had stopped in mid-sentence. The town of Smallville was ablaze. Buildings crumbled or burned; smoke filled the air around them; and in the distance, lightning struck.

"My sister!" Loretta cried, like it had just dawned on her. "I've got to get to my sister's house!"

Jonathan flung open his door and leaped out of the cabin.

"Martha," he ordered, while she slid into the driver's seat, "take the wheel and drive Loretta over to her sister's. Make sure they're okay."

"Already on it, Jonathan," Martha said, having followed her husband's train of thought. "You be careful, now. Don't do anything too foolish."

"I won't," Jonathan swore, kissing his wife goodbye. "I'm gonna see if I can't help out these folks here. Maybe lend a hand whenever the fire department or an ambulance comes by."

"They'll be a long ways off," Martha warned, though she wasn't protesting his heroism. "Something like this..."

Martha froze as her eyes caught a glimpse of the chaos across town in the distance.

"I'll be careful," he reminded her, squeezing her hand to help reassure her. "Maybe I can help some a' these folks get to the hospital."

"Go," said Martha, giving her blessing. "We'll be fine."

Jonathan stepped back out of the way, giving Martha room to close the door and drive off. Watching the truck peel off down the street, he felt his heart clench.

"Ya'll be careful!" he called out, knowing it was too late for Martha to hear him. "I love you, Martha Kent!"

* * *

Sirens were still in the air long after the bombardment had ceased. Fire trucks raced to put out the flames. Police cars patrolled the area to offer reassurance and aid wherever they could, as well as scare of looters. Ambulances moved along through areas of the city that they could reach, taking the seriously injured to the hospital.

Locals passed out food, blankets, and bottles of water. Tents and make-shift shelters had been converted for those who had lost their homes in the disaster. News vans and helecopters were reporting on the meteor shower, reading off from a list of missing persons.

Sadly, Loretta Potter didn't need to search among the names being broadcast for her sister. She and her brother-in-law had already been found. Their bodies were pulled out of the wreckage of Greg Parker's home, along with their infant child. A meteorite had struck the house, landing near the propane tank outside the house. The igniting fire spread quickly, triggering a collapse. Neighbors had helped put out the blaze before it spread throughout the block, but Greg and Marie Parker were dead.

"I don't know what I'll do," Loretta sobbed, looking on while the parametics examined the baby. "She's so little... I can't..."

Loretta broke down into sobs again. Martha offered no words of comfort, but simply held the woman close so she could cry out her grief. Jonathan had made sure the two of them were fine before asking around, making sure there was nothing else they could do.

"You could use sleep," Martha advised, once Loretta had quieted. "And a hot cup of tea."

"I need a freakin' drink," Loretta muttered. "Oh, god. I've never been a parent before. And I don't even have a crib to put her in for the night."

"We'll," Martha interjected, recognizing the beginnings of a panic, "look into all that tomorrow, maybe. You don't even need to take the little girl home with you tonight. She'll be fine at the hospital until the doctors give the okay."

Jonathan came over, walking around Loretta to stand beside Martha.

"I've offered the farm up to anybody that needs a roof over their head," he told them, looking out with tired eyes across the wrecked city street. "Deputy Parker says we outta just head home for now. Not much left to do that folks here in town can't manage themselves."

"We'll come back tomorrow," Martha decided, knowing her husband felt the same. "Loretta, would you like to come home with us?"

Loretta smiled, but shook her head.

"No, but thanks," she said softly. "I feel like I need to be in a familiar place right now. Somewhere I feel... safe?"

Martha nodded, offering no objections.

"I know the feeling," she said, meaning it. "If you need anything, or if you and Cassidy want to come by just to say hello, we'll always leave the door open for you."

Loretta was willing to accept a lift home. Martha drove the truck around to the woman's house, having to use several detours because of the destroyed streets. When Loretta said goodnight, Jonathan unbuckled his seat belt to slide over next to Martha.

"Sorry, darling," he whispered, holding her with one arm. "But I could really use this right now."

Martha leaned into her husband, letting her warmth mingle with his. The ride out of town was quiet. Neither of them had much to say to one another. The day had been something out of a nightmare, a horror she would dream about and remember for years to come.

"Been some day, huh?" Jonathan asked wearily as the truck drove out through the backroads toward the Kent farm. "Need me to drive?"

"I'm good," Martha reassured, keeping her hands tightly on the wheel. "What I want is a hot bath and a long night's sleep."

"Assuming we got runnin' water," Jonathan said, chuckling mirthlessly. "Or a house t' sleep in tonight. You know, I was so busy running 'round town today, I never had th' chance to check out our own place."

"Be a hell of a thing for us to drive all the way back," Martha agreed, "only to find the farm buried under a pile of space rock."

Jonathan thought about that.

"So long as the cows don't gotta be put back in th' pen," he decided, the laughter following his statement sounding more genuine, "I won't complain."

Martha laughed with him, giving her husband a playful elbow to the ribs. This far out of the city, the stars were shining bright. Martha had the side window rolled down to help see out of. In the dark, the shattered windshield was much harder to see out of.

"You ever worry 'bout all this?" Jonathan asked abruptly, taking her by surprise. "I mean, 'bout what all's happened, and what it means."

Martha considered the question. In the midst of her musing, a streak of bright light flashed across the sky.

"It's a shooting star," Martha whispered. "Guess that makes sense."

Jonathan searched the sky for signs of the phenomenon, but the skyborn piece of astral rock had already passed on.

"You spotted it," he told her, speaking softly. "Guess that means you get to make a wish."

Martha made a sound, and it was like a noise of complete defeat.

"Not tonight, Jonathan," she said, sighing. "If I had a wish, though, it'd be for things to get better. For us, and for everybody else on this planet as well. Sometimes, I feel as though–"

Martha felt her hands get thrown from the wheel. The truck bucked up off its wheels, tossing herself and Jonathan about inside the cabin like a couple of kernals in a popcorn popper. Dirt flew up out of the ground, splashing across the windshield. This proved to be the straw that broke the camel's proverbial back. The glass shattered on impact, covering Martha and Jonathan in small, shallow cuts along with a wave of soil.

"That's it," Jonathan grumbled, once he could move again. "Never thought I'd live to say this, Martha, but maybe we should consider movin' to the big city with your family."

Martha, to his great relief, was relatively unharmed, able to move on her own. Quickly, she climbed out of the truck to check and make sure everything moved the way it should.

"Well, Jonathan," she called back, as he husband got out to do the same. "Nothing funny ever fell down on Central City, as far as I could tell you."

Martha looked ahead, anxious to see what had tried to kill them this time. Her whole body stopped moving, going completely slack, as her brain registered what it was she was seeing.

"Jonathan..." she whispered, though it was too soft to be heard.

"I tell you what, Martha," her husband was saying as he circled around the back of the truck, "if God's trying to send us a message, he's losin' his touch where subtley is concerned."

Martha couldn't speak, so she settled for pointing straight ahead of her. Jonathan noticed the dumbstruck look on his wife's face before he saw her pointing finger. It took a second or so more before the spacecraft that had landed across the road in front of their truck finally hit home.

"That–" Jonathan tried, but words failed him afterward.

Martha boldly stepped forward, which shook him out of it enough to go after her.

"Martha, what're you doin'?" he demanded, taking hold of her arm. "That thing's probably dangerous. Hell, it like t' have killed us as it is. Land sakes, Sunday drivers are bad enough when they're on the ground."

Martha effortlessly slipped her arm out of Jonathan's grasp.

"It looks like something off of Star Trek," she marveled, getting up close to the craft. "You can feel the heat from it."

Jonathan hung back for a moment, not sure if his feet were still taking signals from his head.

"Terrific," he muttered. "We're being invaded. First the whole town goes to hell, and now the Chinese are sending down their space trash on us."

"Really, Jonathan." Martha's voice was sharp, but she didn't take her eyes off the craft. "Does this thing look Chinese to you?"

The hatch of the main part of the craft popped open unexpectedly. Martha jumped, but then moved in closer for a better look. Jonathan finally got his legs working again and followed after her. By the time he had reached the craft, his wife was already reaching inside it.

"I don't believe it," Martha cried out, reaching into the cockpit.

"What?" Jonathan wondered, leaning forward. "Is it E.T.?"

When Martha raised back out, she was holding something in her arms. The thing moved, and Jonathan's head was filled with visions of little green men, small robot monsters, or even one of those slimy chest-burster things.

"It's a baby," Martha declared, holding the perfectly healthy, human-looking child up for him to inspect. "Can you believe it? A baby, in a rocket ship!"

"I see it," Jonathan said, staring at the child as Martha brought the two of them closer. "It's the believin' part I'm..."

Jonathan's eyes met with the child's, and something reflexed then in those small, bluest of blue eyes.

"...having some trouble... with."

Martha ran her finger up and down along the baby boy's stomach, tickling him. The child responded in kind, laughing joyously.

"La... ra..." said the baby, looking up into Martha's face. "La... ra..."

"He can already talk," she gasped, before grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, Jonathan. We have to go. There's work to do."

Jonathan felt his wife touch him on the shoulder, but it wasn't until she moved away that he finally snapped out of his daze.

"What?" he asked again, looking around to find Martha already over by the truck. "You wanna go back and look at the farm now?"

"Oh, I don't mean any of that," Martha chided impatiently. "I mean, take the truck and go back to pick up your platform trailer."

Jonathan was having some trouble catching up to his wife's train of thought. Slowly, as though in a dream, he followed the path of her footsteps back to the truck. Martha had already gone back to playing with the child in her arms.

"What?" he tried, for the third time that night.

"Here," Martha instructed, passing him the keys. "You'll need to hurry. This old road doesn't see much traffic, but we shouldn't risk it. That thing's stretched out smack dab in the middle of the lane."

Jonathan looked from the keys in his hand to the truck.

"You want us to move it?" he wondered, still not quite where Martha was just yet.

"Well, we have to," Martha replied, like the answer was obvious. "We can't just leave it here and expect everyone to mistake it for a great big chunk of rock from outer space. Folks around here aren't that gullible. Not even ol' man McKhullen will by that horse puckey."

Jonathan did as his wife bid, deciding he was better off not thinking too hard at the moment. The engine started back up easily. There wasn't any serious damage to the truck. It appeared the crash landing of the rocket had merely caused it to buck off the road some.

"I'll wait here," Martha told him through the open window. "Scare of anybody if they come along trying to get through. Be quick, though!"

"Yeah," Jonathan said, still lost to the fog in his mind. "Quick, I guess."

The road emptied out not far from Old State Road. Jonathan managed to return with the platform trailer in about thirty minutes. Martha stood outside under the cover of night the whole time, keeping the child warm with her coat. His soft coos and baby noises kept away the chill.

"I was thinking about baby names," she informed her husband, once he'd returned and stepped out of the truck. "What do you say to 'Clark'? You know, my father's surname."

"You wanna give a name to him... it... that, now?" asked Jonathan, who hadn't moved since he stepped out of the truck.

"Of course," she insisted. "Let's hurry and get his spaceship loaded onto the platform. I doubt we'll have to worry much about people seeing it. Thankfully, it's plenty dark out tonight."

Jonathan didn't move.

"Stop," he said, making the word a desperate request. "Martha, just stop for a second and think about what I think it is that you're thinkin'."

Martha knew that sound in her husband's voice. She knew he was serious, but she was also not a woman to be easily deterred. A debutante growing up in the blue collar capitol of the world did not get far without nerves of steel and the ability to cogitate.

"Yes, Jonathan?" she asked, staring at him with her war face on.

Jonathan Kent found himself longing for the meteorites back in Smallville.

"We have... a spaceship," he said, making aimless gestures back toward the craft in question, "of some kind... and a baby. From said spaceship."

"Who is all alone," Martha declared, and it was obvious she already felt that settled the matter. "Whoever this baby is, whatever he was, he's all alone here in the world now. All alone, Jonathan Kent, except for us."

Jonathan found he had already lost the argument. More to the point, he realized, it wasn't something he really wanted to succeed at.

"But," he added, unable to let the matter completely drop, "there may be trouble for it. You've seen the same ol' movies I have, Martha. People... government people, they check in with stuff like this. And there's no way we can pass him off as our own. Too many people know!"

"You're right," Martha acknowledged, looking off to the side thoughtfully. "And even if we say we found him somewhere–which is the truth, mind you–they'll still run tests on him. It's just standard stuff to see if a child has diseases. And we don't know–"

"–what they are," Jonathan finished, worry creasing his brow. "Or what they might be. Or even if his blood looks... well, human!"

The long-married couple fell silent, letting the noises of the surrounding fields and the baby's soft cooing fill the voice.

"We'll worry about that later," Martha concluded. "Come on, let's get that blasted thing loaded up and the baby into some warm clothes. It's too cold out here to keep jawing on this way."

The craft was heavy, of course, but Jonathan had thought to add his wench and chain to the back of the truck along with the platform wagon. It took a few minutes, but they managed. The baby sat in the front of the cabin the whole time, patiently waiting for them to finish. Finally, they had it up on the platform and chained down. Martha didn't even object when Jonathan got behind the wheel to drive.

"Any trouble?" Jonathan asked, easing the truck forward. "On the road while I was gone, I mean?"

"Quiet as a country mouse," answered Martha, alternative her attention between the baby and the road. "I flipped on the radio while you were gone. Police are advising folks to stay off the roads and remain inside their houses."

"Good," Jonathan said, relieved. "Less conspicuous that way."

* * *

In back of the truck, atop the platform wagon, the cockpit inside the spacecraft came to life. It had gone quiet following the crash, but now the monitors glowed with an unearthly presence.

 ** _Cross-checking/scanning..._**

 ** _Cross-checking/scanning..._**

 ** _Commencing scan/checking for damages..._**

 ** _Commencing scan/checking for/error!_**

 ** _Commencing/Birthing Matrix completed..._**

 ** _Birthing Matrix complet/scanning..._**

 ** _Scanning/error/error/scanning/completed..._**

 ** _Birthing Matrix completed/Damage report initiated!_**

 ** _Damage report/Request/Damage assessment..._**

 ** _Scanning/Report/Error/Scanning/Error!_**

 ** _Self-diagnostic commencing/Begin initial repairs/Error!_**

 ** _Self-diagnostic commencing/Begin language translation/Error!_**

All of this went unnoticed by the three passengers up front. None of them looked back to check the cockpit for signs of life. There was no life abort the ship itself, of course, but there was sentience inside of it.

 ** _Translation/words..._**

 ** _Translation/words..._**

 ** _Translation/Translation/Translation!_**

 ** _Braniac... error/error/error!_**


End file.
